How Heavy the Days
by Zooie
Summary: Set during the beginning of the series, when Heero and Duo are hiding out at various schools. First part is written from Duo's POV. Second part is written in the 2nd person POV. An experiment.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Roses are lame. Violets are dull. G Wing isn't mine. My profits are null.

Warnings: mild language, as usual.

How Heavy the Days

__

In our fury and muddle

We act like children, cut off,

Fled from ourselves,

Bound by silly shame.

-Hermann Heese, "Destiny"

I've been at the school for about a week now. It's really not my thing, the prissy uniforms and social games and all, but I know how to deal. I know from experience that if I act like a moron, any mistakes I make will be put down to my dimwittedness. If I talk constantly, no one will get a chance to question my motives. 

Don't know why I'm worried, especially. The kids at this place don't really know what war is. The biggest hardship they've had to endure thus far has been the loss of satellite TV. I could probably show up to class in full battle gear and they'd ask me what designer I was wearing. Not that I wouldn't die for that naiveté. 

When I first got here, I made a little deal with myself. Decided that while I was undercover as a normal kid, I'd do my damnedest to actually _be _one. I'd try to wring some semblance of a childhood out of life while I still had the chance. I could get blown to pieces tomorrow, why not try to live today?

I hadn't lived amongst my peers for a long time and had never interacted with anyone my age who'd had a normal upbringing. Who'd grown up with a family and a house and a room of their own. Who had a little brother who would break all their CDs and a cat that would crap under the desk. Whose play-dates did not involve weapons of mass destruction. Who, when the admission forms asked for their birthday, didn't have to invent an answer. Who couldn't sleep at night because they were love-sick, not because they were wracked with guilt and regrets.

I suppose it was like playing house, except backwards. Instead of being a kid pretending to be an adult, I was an adult pretending to be a kid. Sad, really. Pathetic, too. And dangerous. And stupid. Playing games in the middle of the war. Maybe I was no better than my fellow students.

But I played my selfish part, slipping into the role of the indulged adolescent. Pretended to be indignant that rich old daddy-kins had dumped me into boarding school while he flitted around the globe with wife number four. A lot of the other students were in similar situations and commiserated. Claimed I went to the gym so often because I needed to work off my frustrations. A lot of the other guys started coming with me. Wrote off my academic ignorance as laziness rather than a result of being under-educated. A few girls offered to "tutor" me. Started taking long walks at night just to be by myself for one goddamn minute. No one noticed, for they were all asleep.

I fit in so well, I was more like them than they were.

At first it was rather amusing. Turns out those lavish lifestyles they flash across vid screens aren't so imaginary after all. It was fun to rub shoulders with future billionaires and match wits with the children of leading diplomats. It was a thrill ride I'd never experienced prior. Bobby Bigbucks and Franny Fatcheck awere actually rather interesting once you got to know them. Sure, they may define war as "icky," but they had problems of their own, too. Not that I would call their problems pressing or even relevant, but still. In their world, in that context, their personal trials were certainly bothersome.

__

Daddy won't let me buy that Prada dress for the dance. Big meanie. He's so cheap. Doesn't he want me to be happy?

Did you see his new car? How did a loser like him get a sweet ride like that? Yeah, I'll help you slit the tires. Tonight okay?

Okay. So maybe their problems were mostly contrived. Still, sometimes they hit upon the right idea.

__

Did you hear about the attack?! Oh, it's so horrible! They say thirty people died! That's how many people are in our lecture class! Can you imagine...?!

My father said the country is preparing for war. I'm going to have to go back soon. I can't stay here while my people are dying.

But anyway, I was so caught up in playing the normal teenager, it turned out that I was the only one who _wasn't _noticeably concerned with the war. For my first week at the school, no one really noticed. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan. 

"I'm open!" I hollered, ready to receive the ball. We were in the middle of a basketball game. The ancient sport had recently been revived and was currently en vogue with the wealthy. It was easy enough to pick up and we guys had taken to playing a game or two in the gym after classes were over. Usually some girls sat on the bleachers and watched, but sometimes a few of the more adventurous would join in. 

Jang passed me the ball and I took off down the court, dribbling and dodging for all I was worth. We were behind by two points and here was my chance to even things up before the period ended. If I could get just one good shot.... I was really intent on the game, but still absently noticed when someone's phone rings in the background. I was concentrating too hard on my moves, though, to pay attention to what was said.

"Hello? Hi, Mom! How are- what? Is something wrong? W-why are you crying?........... W-what? How?............. Oh my God............ Oh my _God_..........But _why_?! .......... Oh.......... I'll be ready to leave in a few hours. T-tell Sid I love him, okay?............ I'll be home soon, Mom. I love you!"

Strangely, the further I got down the court, the fewer opponents I encountered. Everyone just seemed to disappear. I didn't really notice, however, for I was near my goal.

"YES!" I hollered. I had just made a slam dunk, which was, in my estimation, pretty damn cool. We were now ahead by one, thanks to my amazing prowess. I turned around to accept congratulations from my teammates when I noticed that no one was paying attention to my brilliant play. In fact, no one was even on the court but me.

"Are you okay, Cassie?" One of the girls in the bleachers was crying. A group of students had clustered around her and were attempting to calm her down. She looked pretty upset, her face pale and her shoulders shaking. She clutched a small cellphone in one hand and a handkerchief in the other.

"M-my daddy is dead!" she sobbed out. "He was killed this morning. There was... an a-attack.... on his base."

"Oh my..." the group murmured collectively. Amazed and sympathetic expressions flitted across their faces. Curious, I scooped up the basketball and trotted towards them. 

"They... they think it was a Gundam. From the colonies," Cassie continued, wiping at her face with her handkerchief. Her foundation was smeared all over the small white cloth and her mascara ran down her cheeks in long black streaks.

"A Gundam?" The students were confused. "What's a Gundam."

Cassie suddenly looked shocked. Her lipsticked mouth gaped for a second, then she gasped. "Oh, no! Please forget I said that! I-I have to go! Please, let me up!" She stood with a panicked look in her eyes and shoved her way through the group. She ran out of the gym, her books forgotten on the bleachers. No one made a move to stop her.

The students all exchanged shocked glances. "What's a Gundam?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of that before."

"Oh, poor Cassie!"

"It must be so hard to lose a parent."

"And she's so young!"

"It's hard to believe people still die like that in today's world."

"I can't believe this. What a bunch of bull, attacking a base in a time of supposed peace!"

I am angry, for more reasons than I can count.

"Ummm, hello!" I interrupted. "Did no one see that shot I made? Slam dunk, here!"

I found myself the butt of many irritated glares. "Don't you even care that Cassie's dad died?" one of the girls accused, an ugly frown on her face.

"Of course I care! Jesus Christ, I'm not that much of a bastard!" I complain, tucking the basketball under my arm. "But what's crying about it going to do?"

"How about a little respect?" Jang snapped. "He was a great man and his memory deserves reverence."

"For God's sake," I muttered. "He was a soldier! Soldiers die! If you don't expect that, you're an idiot!"

"Duo," Jang said carefully. "Are you aware that we are facing an imminent war? You seem to be the only one here who isn't' somewhat worried about what's happening to our world."

"Oh, I know alright," I told him. "I'm just not freaking out like you guys are. Why should I? That's not going to help anything" 

If you leave your responses open to interpretation, you're not really lying. 

"How can you be so cold?" a blonde fumed. "Come on, let's get out of here." She grabbed the arm of the girl closest to her and stood. Everyone followed her lead. One by one, they filed out of the gym, frowning at me all the way. I silently watched them go, still cradling the basketball under my arm.

My gaze returned to the books Cassie had abandoned to the bleachers. She had doodled smiley faces and hearts all over her notebooks. "I love Brad" was scrawled in big letters on the spine of her binder. Her book covers were made out of flowered contact paper. I frowned at the pile sadly. "Poor little missy..." 

Yeah. Those students have no idea what war really is. To them it's just an unexpected phone call in the middle of the afternoon. It's an inconvenience. Maybe that's the way it should be for them. Maybe they weren't meant to understand. Regardless, now there was one among them who now _did_.

I dropped the basketball to the floor. It bounced away, thudding dully across the gym. I climbed up the bleachers to where Cassie had been sitting. Bending down, I scooped up the books and studied them intently. Mind made up, I took off for the girl's dorm.

************

There was a stack large cardboard boxes in the hallway. She was apparently packing for an extended visit home. Something told me she wouldn't be returning to school anytime soon.

"Cassie?" I knocked on her door quietly. "Can I come in?"

"Who is it?" a teary voice asked. I could hear rustling and thumps from behind her door, and the sound of tape ripping. Packing was in full swing. I had no doubt her possessions would be ensconced in the boxes before dinner was served.

"It's me, Duo," I answered, shifting my grip on her books. "I brought your stuff. You forgot it in the gym."

"Can you leave it next to the door?" she requested weakly. "I'm a bit busy."

"Sure," I assured her. "No problem. I'll just put them right here." 

"T-thanks."

I laid the books next to her door, straightening the stack so that it was neat and tidy. Then I stood there, staring at her door, strung with indecision. "Cassie? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What do you want, Duo? I'm kind of busy!" She didn't sound too happy. I couldn't blame her, really. "And if you want to convey your sympathies, thank you, but I really don't want to hear it right now, okay?"

"Ah, no. It's not that. I just want to tell you something. It won't take long. You don't even have to open the door. Just hear me out, okay?" I quickly responded. 

"I'm listening," she said shortly. "But please be brief. I... I can't listen very well right now."

"Alright. Brief... sure. I can be brief. Ummmmm."

"Would you please get to the point?" Cassie didn't sound too great. I could tell she was close to breaking. I grimaced and tried to organize my thoughts into one neat paragraph.

"I guess what I want to say is, don't give up hope. He may be gone and it's going to hurt for a long while, but you can't let that stop your life from happening. You can't just run away and hide from the world. You can't stop seeing the smiles and the laughter and the life. You have to keep being yourself, because if you let this stop you from being who you are, that's two deaths it's caused."

The door opened. Cassie stood there, her hair a wreck, her make-up smeared, her uniform wrinkled. She looked a far cry from the pampered schoolgirl she'd been this afternoon. "Thank you, Duo," she said simply. Then the door shut in my face.

*************

That night as I walked alone under the stars, gazing up at the barren moon, I thought about that school and its cloister of children who understood so little. I thought about how I resented their innocence and lack of knowledge. I thought about how I was angered when the war dared violate on their perfect lives. I thought about how their very ignorance was what I was fighting to save.

I thought about Cassie, whose life the war had thrown into disarray. 

I thought that what I was really trying to save them from was people like myself.

I could try to be like them for an eternity, but that wouldn't change the fact that I wasn't. 

__

You know nothing of time,

You know only that, somewhere in the distance,

A war is being fought,

You whittle your wood into sword and shield and spear

And play your game blissfully in the garden,

Set up tents,

Carry white bandages marked with the white cross.

And if my wish for you has any power, 

So war will remain

For you, always, only a dim legend,

So you will never stand in the field

And never die

And never rush out of a house crumbling in fire.

-Hermann Hesse, "To Children"

****

-Fin-

Zooie: I used this one to play "count the mood swings." _ 

This can be fleshed out, if anyone is actually interested. It's just a rough, rough draft. I was bored.


	2. How Heavy the Days POV

Disclaimer: Roses are lame. Violets are dull. G Wing isn't mine. My profits are null.

Author's Notes: Written in the second person pov. You are seeing the world through Duo's eyes. Welcome to the Twilight Zone (which doesn't belong to me, either). 

Warnings: mild language, as usual.

How Heavy the Days

__

In our fury and muddle

We act like children, cut off,

Fled from ourselves,

Bound by silly shame.

-Hermann Heese, "Destiny"

You've been at the school for about a week now. It's really not your thing, the prissy uniforms and social games and all, but you know how to deal. You know from experience that if you act like a moron, any mistakes you make will be put down to your dimwittedness. If you talk constantly, no one will get a chance to question your motives. 

You don't know why you're worried, especially. The kids at this place didn't really know what war was. The biggest hardship they'd had to endure thus far had been the loss of satellite TV. You could probably show up to class in full battle gear and they'd ask you what designer you were wearing. Not that you wouldn't die for that naiveté. 

When you first got there, you'd made a little deal with yourself. You'd decided that while you were undercover as a normal kid, you'd do your damnedest to actually _be _one. You'd try to wring some semblance of a childhood out of life while you still had the chance. After all, you could get blown to pieces tomorrow, why not try to live today?

You hadn't lived amongst your peers for a long time and had never interacted with anyone your age who'd had a normal upbringing. Who'd grown up with a family and a house and a room of their own. Who had a little brother who would break all their CDs and a cat that would crap under the desk. Whose play-dates did not involve weapons of mass destruction. Who, when the admission forms asked for their birthday, didn't have to invent an answer. Who couldn't sleep at night because they were love-sick, not because they were wracked with guilt and regrets.

You supposed it was like playing house, except backwards. Instead of being a kid pretending to be an adult, you were an adult pretending to be a kid. Sad, really. Pathetic, too. And dangerous. And stupid. Playing games in the middle of the war. Maybe you were no better than your fellow students.

But you played your selfish part, slipping into the role of the indulged adolescent. You pretended to be indignant that rich old daddy-kins had dumped you into boarding school while he flitted around the globe with wife number four. A lot of the other students were in similar situations and commiserated. You claimed you went to the gym so often because you needed to work off your frustrations. A lot of the other guys started coming with you. You wrote off your academic ignorance as laziness rather than a result of being under-educated. A few girls offered to "tutor" you. You started taking long walks at night just to be by yourself for one goddamn minute. No one noticed, for they were all asleep.

You fit in so well, you were more like them than they were.

At first you found it rather amusing. It turned out those lavish lifestyles they flash across vid screens aren't so imaginary after all. It's actually kind of fun to rub shoulders with future billionaires and match wits with the children of leading diplomats. It was a thrill ride you'd never experienced prior. Bobby Bigbucks and Franny Fatcheck awere actually rather interesting once you got to know them. Sure, they may define war as "icky," but they had problems of their own, too. Not that you would call their problems pressing or even relevant, but still. In their world, in that context, their personal trials were certainly bothersome.

__

Daddy won't let me buy that Prada dress for the dance. Big meanie. He's so cheap. Doesn't he want me to be happy?

Did you see his new car? How did a loser like him get a sweet ride like that? Yeah, I'll help you slit the tires. Tonight okay?

Okay. So maybe their problems were mostly contrived. Still, sometimes they hit upon the right idea.

__

Did you hear about the attack?! Oh, it's so horrible! They say thirty people died! That's how many people are in our lecture class! Can you imagine...?!

My father said the country is preparing for war. I'm going to have to go back soon. I can't stay here while my people are dying.

But anyway, you were so caught up in playing the normal teenager, it turned out that you were the only one who _wasn't _noticeably concerned with the war. For your first week at the school, no one really noticed. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan. 

"I'm open!" you hollered, ready to receive the ball. You and some classmates were in the middle of a basketball game. The ancient sport had recently been revived and was currently en vogue with the wealthy. It was easy enough to pick up and you and some other guys had taken to playing a game or two in the gym after classes were over. Usually some girls sat on the bleachers and watched, but sometimes a few of the more adventurous would join you. 

Jang passed you the ball and you took off down the court, dribbling and dodging for all you were worth. Your team was behind by two points and here was your chance to even things up before the period ended. If you could get just one good shot....Your sneakers slapped against the wooden slats of the floor as you thundered down the court, weaving between the lunging players. You were quite intent on the game, but still absently noticed when someone's phone rang in the background. You were concentrating too hard on your moves, though, to pay attention to what was said.

"Hello? Hi, Mom! How are- what? Is something wrong? W-why are you crying?........... W-what? How?............. Oh my God............ Oh my _God_..........But _why_?! .......... Oh.......... I'll be ready to leave in a few hours. T-tell Sid I love him, okay?............ I'll be home soon, Mom. I love you!"

Strangely, the further you got down the court, the fewer opponents you encountered. Everyone just seemed to disappear. You didn't really notice, however, for you were near your goal. You're almost at the court's end and, as you near the basket, you leaped into the air with all your strength, stretching upwards with the ball in hand. You're almost there.... *twang* You hung from the rim for a second, then released your grip to fall safely to the floor.

"YES!" you hollered. You had just made a slam dunk, which was, in your estimation, pretty damn cool. Your team was now ahead by one, thanks to your amazing prowess. You turned around to accept congratulations from your teammates when you noticed that no one was paying attention to your brilliant play. In fact, no one was even on the court but you. They're all across the room.

"Are you okay, Cassie?" One of the girls in the bleachers was crying. A group of students had clustered around her and were attempting to calm her down. She looked pretty upset, her face pale and her shoulders shaking. She clutched a small cellphone in one hand and a handkerchief in the other.

"M-my daddy is dead!" she sobbed out. "He was killed this morning. There was... an a-attack.... on his base."

"Oh my..." the group murmured collectively. Amazed and sympathetic expressions flitted across their faces. Curious, you scooped up the basketball and trotted towards them, your footsteps slapping loudly in the still gym.

"They... they think it was a Gundam. From the colonies," Cassie continued, wiping at her face with her handkerchief. Her foundation was smeared all over the small white cloth and her mascara ran down her cheeks in long black streaks.

"A Gundam?" The students were confused. "What's a Gundam."

Cassie suddenly looked shocked. Her lipsticked mouth gaped for a second, then she gasped. "Oh, no! Please forget I said that! I-I have to go! Please, let me up!" She stood with a panicked look in her eyes and shoved her way through the group. She ran out of the gym, her books forgotten on the bleachers. No one made a move to stop her.

The students all exchanged shocked glances. "What's a Gundam?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of that before."

"Oh, poor Cassie!"

"It must be so hard to lose a parent."

"And she's so young!"

"It's hard to believe people still die like that in today's world."

"I can't believe this. What a bunch of bull, attacking a base in a time of supposed peace!"

You am angry, for more reasons than you can count.

"Ummm, hello!" you interrupted. "Did no one see that shot I made? Slam dunk, here!"

You found yourself the butt of many irritated glares. "Don't you even care that Cassie's dad died?" one of the girls accused, an ugly frown on her face.

"Of course I care! Jesus Christ, I'm not that much of a bastard!" you complain, tucking the basketball under your arm. "But what's crying about it going to do?"

"How about a little respect?" Jang snapped. "He was a great man and his memory deserves reverence."

"For God's sake," you muttered. "He was a soldier! Soldiers die! If you don't expect that, you're an idiot!"

"Duo," Jang said carefully. "Are you aware that we are facing an imminent war? You seem to be the only one here who isn't' somewhat worried about what's happening to our world."

"Oh, I know alright," you told him. "I'm just not freaking out like you guys are. Why should I? That's not going to help anything" 

If you leave your responses open to interpretation, you're not really lying. 

"How can you be so cold?" a blonde fumed. "Come on, let's get out of here." She grabbed the arm of the girl closest to her and stood. Everyone followed her lead. One by one, they filed out of the gym, frowning at you all the way. You silently watched them go, still cradling the basketball under your arm.

Your gaze returned to the books Cassie had abandoned to the bleachers. She had doodled smiley faces and hearts all over her notebooks. "I love Brad" was scrawled in big letters on the spine of her binder. Her book covers were made out of flowered contact paper. You frowned at the pile sadly. "Poor little missy..." 

Yeah. Those students have no idea what war really is. To them it's just an unexpected phone call in the middle of the afternoon. It's an inconvenience. Maybe that's the way it should be for them. Maybe they weren't meant to understand. Regardless, there was one among them who now _did_.

You dropped the basketball to the floor. It bounced away, thudding dully across the gym. You climbed up the bleachers to where Cassie had been sitting, the wooden boards creaking beneath you. Bending down, you scooped up the books and studied them intently. They smelled faintly of designer perfume. Mind made up, you took off for the girl's dorm.

************

There was a stack of large cardboard boxes in the hallway. She was apparently packing for an extended visit home. Something told you she wouldn't be returning to school anytime soon.

"Cassie?" You knocked on her door quietly, rapping your knuckles against the hard surface. "Can I come in?"

"Who is it?" a teary voice asked. You could hear rustling and thumps from behind her door, and the sound of tape ripping. Packing was in full swing. You had no doubt her possessions would be ensconced in the boxes before dinner was served.

"It's me, Duo," You answered, shifting your grip on her books. "I brought your stuff. You forgot it in the gym."

"Can you leave it next to the door?" she requested weakly. "I'm a bit busy."

"Sure," you assured her. "No problem. I'll just put them right here." 

"T-thanks."

You'd bent down, the waistband of your uniform's tight slacks cutting sharply into your waist. You'd laid the books next to her door, straightening the stack so that it was neat and tidy. Then you had stood there, staring at her door, strung with indecision. She'd decorated her door with magazine models and goofy greeting cards. A dry erase board hung in the center and silly messages were written across it in green ink. 'Your homework is to eat bleach and die!' [1] you read distractedly. "Cassie? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"What do you want, Duo? I'm kind of busy!" She didn't sound too happy. You couldn't blame her, really. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and rubbed your sweating palms down the front of your trousers. "And if you want to convey your sympathies, thank you, but I really don't want to hear it right now, okay?"

"Ah, no. It's not that. I just want to tell you something. It won't take long. You don't even have to open the door. Just hear me out, okay?" You quickly responded. 

"I'm listening," she said shortly. "But please be brief. I... I can't listen very well right now."

"Alright. Brief... sure. I can be brief. Ummmmm."

"Would you please get to the point?" Cassie didn't sound too great. You could tell she was close to breaking. You grimaced and tried to organize your thoughts into one neat paragraph. It wasn't easy.

"I guess what I want to say is, don't give up hope. He may be gone and it's going to hurt for a long while, but you can't let that stop your life from happening. You can't just run away and hide from the world. You can't stop seeing the smiles and the laughter and the life. You have to keep being yourself, because if you let this stop you from being who you are, that's two deaths it's caused."

The door opened. Cassie stood there, her hair a wreck, her make-up smeared, her uniform wrinkled. She looked a far cry from the pampered schoolgirl she'd been this afternoon. "Thank you, Duo," she said simply, meeting your eyes for an instant. Then the door shut solidly in your face.

*************

That night as you walked alone under the stars, gazing up at the barren moon, you thought about that school and its cloister of children who understood so little. You thought about how you resented their innocence and lack of knowledge. You thought about how you were angered when the war dared violate on their perfect lives. You thought about how their very ignorance was what you were fighting to save.

You thought about Cassie, whose life the war had thrown into disarray. 

You thought that what you were really trying to save them from was people like yourself.

You could try to be like them for an eternity, but that wouldn't change the fact that you weren't. You were as much like them as they were like you.

As you walked through the night's crisp, biting air, hands chilled and thrust into your pockets, the concrete hard beneath your feet, you were thankful that was true.

__

You know nothing of time,

You know only that, somewhere in the distance,

A war is being fought,

You whittle your wood into sword and shield and spear

And play your game blissfully in the garden,

Set up tents,

Carry white bandages marked with the white cross.

And if my wish for you has any power, 

So war will remain

For you, always, only a dim legend,

So you will never stand in the field

And never die

And never rush out of a house crumbling in fire.

-Hermann Hesse, "To Children"

****

-Fin-

Footnotes:

[1] www.wearerobots.com Go to angrybot. It's the funniest thing ever. 

Zooie: The thought suddenly struck me that this would make a good POV fic. Yes, I was incredibly bored. Why do you ask?


End file.
